


tomato face

by touchpin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Incest, Selective Muteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchpin/pseuds/touchpin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose admires her brother from up-close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tomato face

Your parents are out. You've finished your homework, done your chores like your mother asked - now, you sit on your brother's bed, your hands cautiously inching their way underneath his shirt.

The silence of the house feels heavy, with just the soft, intermittent smacking of you and your brother's lips. Chaste kisses. Not a lot of tongue. Dave is shy, but he trusts you the most, so when you do things like this together you both like to take it slow. You stop to rest your cheek against Dave's, joining your freckles. His shallow, shuddery breath is hot against your neck. You wonder if you feel as warm as he does.

You lightly trace along your brother's sides, over his bony ribs, coming up to feel his racing heartbeat beneath your palm. Dave gasps, a sharp little noise next to your ear. Won't stop shaking. His hands are limp at his sides. He has to raise his arms for you to pull his t-shirt over his head, and then raise his hips, too, so that you can take off his jeans. When he's bare beside you, shivering although he's so warm, he curls more into himself and fixes his gaze on your left knee.

Shaking a bit yourself, you try to slip out of your own clothes as quickly as possible. You hesitate when you get to your bra. Decide to leave it on. Turning back to Dave, you lightly press his shoulder, snapping him out of whatever trance he was in. Scooting further back on the mattress so that his legs no longer dangle off the side, he lays down, eyes nervously trained up at you.

Your brother looks pretty. Pretty and scared. He's too skinny like you're too skinny, and you stop a while to watch the quick rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. You haven't even gotten to the worst part yet, and is face is already so red beneath his freckles. He blinks and moves his eyes around a lot as you stare.

He has lovely collarbones, too. You think you're jealous of his collarbones. You make a mental note to jot down a description of them later, maybe incorporate them into your writing.

Dave twitches and begins to breathe a little bit faster when you finally move towards him, bedsheets rustling as you crawl. You ghost over his thighs, his bony hips, and imagine the dark bruises you could leave if you only had the nerve.

You slowly lower yourself down on him, eyes shut tight as Dave's hands dart up to grip the space on your legs right above your knees. You blindly reach for one of his hands, interlocking fingers as you try to control your breathing. When you look down again, Dave's staring up at you with his eyebrows all scrunched up, sweet mouth open with no sound coming out. He holds your hand a bit tighter and you hold tight back. You press your lips into a thin line and hum, more to yourself than him, then brace your free hand on his stomach. Drawing in a shaky breath, you slowly begin to roll your hips.

Whenever you have sex with Dave, he always looks like it hurts. His eyes water and his eyebrows bunch like he's about to cry, and you know he gets embarrassed about it, because he always tries to hide his face. You feel him tug his hand away from where it had been grasping yours, pressing both his hands over his face to cover himself the way his sunglasses do during the day. His red-cheeked freckles are hidden, but that's just fine. Dave doesn't want to be seen but you watch the way his mouth widens and his body arches anyway. You draw from him wheezy gasps, and he tilts his head to the side as if he wants to hide more, to burrow into the mattress.

Dave doesn't make a lot of noise, but you do enjoy the noises he does make. You closely pay attention to his little shudders and whimpers, which don't get louder, but just more breathy as he gets close.

You tear one of his hands away from his face right before he comes, meaning to kiss him on the mouth but getting his chin instead.

 

 

Later, at the dinner table, Mother asks how your day went while Father quietly devours his food. Dave picks at his plate and says nothing, as usual. And that's just fine. You've grown accustomed to speaking for the both of you.

You turn to your mother, neatly speared square of meat paused on its route between the good china and your mouth. You see the smudge of lipstick on the edge of Mother's glass before you see the thin, bleak smile on her face. Your face feels tight when you smile back.

"It was nice. Quiet," you say, and scrape your teeth on the tip of your fork.


End file.
